


Just Okay

by Wind_Ryder



Series: Non-Stop Gifts/AUs [6]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Anxiety Disorder, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-13
Updated: 2016-03-13
Packaged: 2018-05-26 12:22:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6238996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wind_Ryder/pseuds/Wind_Ryder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Non-Stop AU: Prompt: " i'd love to see how laf reacts to john having an anxiety attack like does he "????" or does he know exactly what to do or??"</p><p>_______________________</p><p>John can’t breathe. He can’t move. His vision is tunneling. They’d agreed never to see each other again. John left for college. He left everything behind. So long as he never speaks to or contacts his father and his siblings, he never has to see his father again. That’s their arrangement. It works for both of them. Had worked for nearly eight months.</p><p>He never answers Martha. His father steps that final step too close. Passed the invisible boundary that John’s drawn for him on the floor. Don’t cross this line. Don’t approach. His father does anyway. Lifts his hand. Touches Martha’s shoulder. “You should let him breathe, honey,” he says calmly.</p><p>John recoils. Pulls away from Martha. Spins on his heel.</p><p>Flees.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Okay

**Author's Note:**

  * For [asphodelgrimoire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/asphodelgrimoire/gifts).



> Potentially triggering to those with anxiety. Please bear that in mind. 
> 
> Non-Stop AU as usual. Full context to those who've read Non-Stop.

It’s an accident. John hadn’t known that _he’d_ be there. That Martha would be there. He’d just wanted to buy Lafayette a birthday present. The stereo was more than John usually allotted himself each month. The drive to get it even more of a hassle. But it’d play their music nice and loud. In every room. And had Bluetooth capabilities. Lafayette would love it. John knew he would.

So he’d gone. Driving to the closest city, just to run into Best Buy and find Lafayette his stereo. He found the one he’d been looking for. Sleek and shiny, with all the buttons and connectors. Lights flickered when music played, and John had traced his fingers over its sides reverently before snatching the box off the shelf. Manhandling it into his cart.

He’d turned around, and stopped short.

_Martha._

His oldest sister.

She’d been walking down the aisle, and she stopped short when she saw him. Eyes going wide. Mouth falling open slightly. She took half a step forward. His fingers spasmed in the air. Desperate for something to hold onto. “Jack?” she breathed. Then she was on him.

Arms around his neck. Nose pressed to his chest. He had taken half a step back, and then gingerly dropped his hands around her body. Frozen stiff. Staring out over her head toward the end of the aisle.

His father stepped into view less than a minute later.

It’s an accident.

John hadn’t known.

“What are you doing here?” Martha asks as she releases John. Smiles up at him. John’s eyes are glued on Henry Laurens. Who’s walking closer. Whose mouth is twisting into a snarling frown. Trying to keep the public image while at the same time making it abundantly clear that John had no business being anywhere near Martha.

He can’t breathe. He can’t move. His vision is tunneling. They’d agreed never to see each other again. John left for college. He left everything behind. He never speaks to nor contacts his father or his siblings, and he never has to see him again. That’s their arrangement. It works for both of them. _Had_ worked for nearly eight months.

He never answers Martha. His father steps that final step too close. Passed the invisible boundary that John’s drawn for him on the floor. _Don’t cross this line. Don’t approach._ His father does anyway. Lifts his hand. Touches Martha’s shoulder. “You should let him breathe, honey,” he says calmly.

John recoils. Pulls away from Martha. Spins on his heel.

Flees.

“Jack? Jack!” Martha calls for him. But it doesn’t matter. His hand’s in his pocket. Jerking his keys out. They shake in his palm. Make it impossible for him to fumble and get the right one. He stumbles. Nearly trips. Tries to get them into the lock on his car door. Keeps scraping them against the metal siding.

His breath’s coming too fast. Too quick. His head’s starting to spin. He needs to go. Needs to get out. Can’t be here anymore. Can’t—

A hand touches his arm. He jerks away.  Nearly tripping over himself in his haste to escape. Martha’s mother. Keys falling from his grasp and hitting the ground with a clink. _Christ. Is the whole gang here?_ “Jack?” she asks him.

He can’t speak. Can’t get the words out. Has never known what to say to her. She bends down. Picks up the keys. Hands them to him. “I’m so sorry,” she tells him. He tries to say something. Anything. Can’t. She unlocks his car door. Opens it a crack. Hands the keys back to him. Needs to carefully pick up John’s palm herself so she can deposit them into his hand. Fold his fingers over them. He can’t make them move on his own. “I’ll keep them inside for a while,” she tells him. Then leaves.

John’s glued to the pavement. Feet coated in epoxy. He can’t move. Can’t breathe. He doesn’t realize until several minutes later. But he’s crying.

 

***

 

He waits for the shoe to drop. For the moment of realization that he didn’t make it out unscathed. He goes home. Stumbles through the front door and blinks at Lafayette sprawled on the couch. At the book he’s reading. At the music playing in the background. _(Never did buy that stereo…)_

Lafayette turns. Looks up at him. Smiles. “Mon amour—” John misses the rest. He stumbles forward. Sinks to his knees. Presses his head against Lafayette’s chest. He wants to be beaten until he can’t move. Deserves it. Shouldn’t have talked to Martha. Samantha. Shouldn’t have agitated his father.

He made a mistake. Needs to have it corrected. Can’t let Lafayette do it though. Because if he does then his father will do it too. And it’s not fair. It’s not fair. He didn’t do anything wrong. He’d just wanted to do something nice. Something touches his shoulder. He recoils. _It’s not fair._

Lafayette’s starting to sit up. They’ll fight now. John tries to rally himself together. Tries to tell himself this is what he wants. This is going to be okay. He’s used to this. But Lafayette reaches for him. And his hands don’t look right. And his expression is intense. And. And. And. And. And. And.

Like a soundtrack on repeat, John _flees._

Running makes it worse. So much worse. There’s always after. After. After when he thinks father’s gone to bed. When he just needs to use the bathroom. Get a bite to eat. A glass of water. Never should have gone home to begin with. Home’s where the monsters live, and he’s a monster too, but he’s not like that. Not capable of success.

He keeps telling himself that running is bad. That it hurts. That it always catches up. “John!” Echoes through his ears, but he’s tripping upstairs. Falling forward so much that he slaps his palms against each step. Launching himself to the top as fast as he can.

He reaches for the first door. It’s locked. Everything’s locked. Why is everything locked? They never lock anything. “John—” a hand comes into view. He twists back. The ground is moving underneath him. The walls are pitching inwards. Outwards. He can’t breathe. He can’t breathe. He can’t breathe.

Lafayette’s staring at him. Lowers a hand to the door knob. Slowly twists. Opens the door. It does it so easily under his touch. The door is like a warning, though. A threat. He can’t enter with Lafayette there. Can’t get close. They’re going to fight. That’s what Lafayette wants from him. It’s the only thing anyone ever wants for him. To be there to hit.

He deserves it. He talked to Martha. He’s not supposed to talk to her. He’s not good enough to talk to her. Father’s going to be by any minute. He’s going to—he’s going to — he’s going to.

Lafayette steps in close. John scrambles to get away, but Lafayette’s too fast. Always too fast. Faster than anyone else John knows. He gasps. Yelps. Sobs. Doesn’t know. Makes a noise. Something that grates across his consciousness. _Don’t touch me. Don’t touch me. Don’t touch me._

He’s begging. Words falling from his mouth. English. Spanish. Spanish is always worse. Why is he talking in Spanish? That’s bad. That’s bad. That’s bad. John jerks. Tries to get out. “It’s going to be okay,” Lafayette soothes. But it’s not. And the weight of his body around John’s is too much. He can’t. He can’t.

Stop it.

Please just stop it.

_I don’t want this anymore._

_Leave me alone._

Lafayette holds him closer. Too much. Too much. Too much. He can’t do this. He can’t do this. Stop—

The arms around him shift position, and John flies out. Desperate. Manages to make it a few steps. Collapse against a door which opens the moment his shoulder touches it. He falls. Catches himself. Slams the door shut behind him. Locks it. Hits the ground. Knees hitting tile. Hands to his ears. Tries to block out the noise. It’s too loud. It’s too loud. The door knob’s rattling. He wedges himself between the door and the bathroom. counter.

The voices are screaming. “John!? John!” Snot collects in the back of his throat. Choking. It’s too much. Nails dig into his scalp. Pull at his hair. Palms press tighter against his head. Block it out. Make it stop.

He can’t breathe. He can’t breathe.

He can’t breathe.

 

***

 

_“Animals are multicellular, eukaryotic organisms of the kingdom Animalia. All animals are motile, meaning they can move spontaneously and independently, at some point in their lives…”_

The bedroom shares a wall with the bathroom. Voices drift in and out. Sounds echo through the space. Someone _(Lafayette?),_ has been shuffling. Moving. Rearranging. The noise starts off quiet. A familiar tune gently lifting up in the air. Softly lowered as a new voice settles over it. Facts read out. Information processes.

John knows these facts. Has heard them before. Has listened to this documentary more than once. There’s an echo to it. As though he can hear it down beneath him too. The living room? Maybe?

He’s shivering still. Struggling to draw air. Can barely see anything. But numbness is clawing at his body. Weighing it down. Dragging it to the earth. He’s so tired. He just wants to sleep. Just wants the world to be quiet now.

_“Animals are divided into various sub-groups, some of which are: vertebrates…”_

 

His lips move. Wordlessly sounding it out. He pulls his knees to his chest. Wraps his arms around himself. Flinches back at the sound of a cell phone ringing. He closes his eyes.

And sleeps.

 

***

 

It’s dark.

The sun has set.

John wakes to his body still crumpled against the counter. The door still locked. A voice in the distance talking about the migration patterns of humpback whales. He’s cold. But the door’s locked. And no one can get him here. No one can find him. He’s okay. He’s okay. He doesn’t need to think. Doesn’t need to pretend. He can just...he can just…

Tears well up again. He’s being so stupid.

The most stupid ever.

Swatting at his eyes, he pulls on his shirt sleeves. Forces himself to his feet. He sways. Lightheaded. One hand bracing him against the counter. He should be better than this. He’s such a mess. It’s not right. Not good. He should be allowed to interact with society. Especially not someone like Lafayette. John’s breath hitches. Another sob forms. He rubs at his eyes more aggressively. _Please just stop._

Trembling fingers unlock the door. His heart thunders in his chest. Knowing that at any moment he’ll see Lafayette. And he’s not ready for the fight. Not ready for the anger. For the disappointment. But he’s numb now. So maybe if Lafayette just gets his way, it’ll be done with and they can move on. No more waiting. Just get it over with.

He needs to sleep. He’s so tired.

Lafayette’s sitting on the couch downstairs. Legs folded beneath him. Eyes fixed on the screen. Animal Planet. John waivers on the staircase. He doesn’t know what to do. Lafayette doesn’t turn to look at him. Doesn’t make any motion to move. Instead, he asks him a question without so much as a glance in his direction. “Are these the biggest?”

John looks at the screen. Shakes his head. Feels the trembling starting up again. The need to flee. To escape. To just submit to a greater power and give up. Let himself be burned inside and out. “No,” he whispers out.

Blue whales are the largest mammals in the world. They swim in pods. When they exhale, water shoots up thirty feet in the air. Gestation period of eleven months.

John steps closer. Closer. Lafayette turns his head. Their eyes meet.  “Mon amour,” Lafayette greets. Quiet. Gentle.

John should say something. Anything. Something. Anything. Say something. He closes his eyes. Lifts his hand to his face. “I saw my father today,” he murmurs into his palm. Lafayette doesn’t react. Doesn’t say a thing. Just looks up at him. Waits.

Tears are starting up again. Leaking from his eyes. John can’t feel anything. Not depression. Not anxiety. Not anger. He wipes the tears back. They keep falling. Hasn’t he given enough yet?

“Yes,” Lafayette murmurs nonsensically. John doesn’t know what to do. What to say. “Can I hold you?” Lafayette asks.

“Why?” He flinches. Back-talk. Bad. Not supposed to. He’s going to get in trouble. It’s going to hurt. Why couldn’t he have just died with mama?

Why couldn’t he just be left alone? “Because I love you,” Lafayette tells him. John lifts his head. Drops his hand to his side. Lafayette’s not smiling. There are dark circles above his cheeks. He’s sitting stiffly. A man used to action, unable to move. “Because I want to make it better.”

John takes one step forward. Then another. Another. He lifts a hand to press against Lafayette’s face. Doesn’t react as Lafayette slowly lifts _his_ hands up. Placing them on John’s hips. Gently moving so John’s sitting on his lap.

Kneels curl in. His head rests on Lafayette’s shoulder. Warm arms wrap around him. “I should be punished for this,” John murmurs quietly. Lafayette holds him tighter. Releases.

“No,” he whispers. “You should be cherished for this.”

John starts to cry again. But this time, Lafayette holds him close. The panic doesn’t start. The breaths still come. He’s not dying. He’s safe. Lafayette’s not going to fight him. Not going to hurt him. It’s going to be okay.

Not good.

Just okay.

But sometimes, just okay is as good as it can be.

 

 


End file.
